


Saudade

by OwlOfMyLove



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Angst, Character Death, F/M, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-11 11:04:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2065722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OwlOfMyLove/pseuds/OwlOfMyLove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was sunny because the universe does not care about the grief of men.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saudade

**Author's Note:**

> Reminding again that this has abuse, character death, as well as other triggers.

Never before had Mr. Gold hired help in his small, yet profitable, pawnshop. He had ran the business for years without anyone working there, every single applicant quickly rejected the minute their intentions became clear. He was a wealthy and feared man in Storybrooke, an educated man, divorced after a short-lived yet scandalous marriage that involved his wife running away with a man. The wife, nearly faded herself from the memory of the town, was the only one to ever work in the shop with Gold. Many were quick to assume that was why he refused help. The shop was quick to gather dust faster than Mr. Gold could ever clean it and yet help was never hired, not since his first wife. 

Until Belle French asked. 

When she came in that morning to ask she wore nothing that said she would be ready at that moment to show him how well she could get her hands dirty. He wanted to question her attire, curious as to what made her think she could get a job being a keeper if she wore heels, stockings, the shortest skirts he had ever seen, and blouses tightly around her small breasts. 

"This is how I dress everyday, Mr. Gold," she told him confidently, undaunted by his feared reputation. "I promise you my skirts will not hold me back from polishing the silver and dusting the books."

He never said why he hired the young woman, but all assumed it was the bravery and stance she took to apply that finally made Gold break his no-employee rule.

Belle French was a diligent worker, despite always arriving in stacked heels and the shortest skirts that wildly teased his imagination. She arrived ten minutes after he did and greeted him with a beautiful smile, sometimes a treat of tea or pastries to start their morning, and would ask if there was anything he needed her to do. His response was cold, insisting it was just the usual that needed to be done and left it at that. The young woman spent hours dusty, polishing, and stacking many items that cluttered the pawnshop, putting lovingly effort into it with a friendly transformation within weeks.

"Your heels are going to be the death of you," he said calmly while she carried a white China set out for dusting. 

Hearing his voice past the usual greetings he gave her before and after work nearly caused the tea tray to fall from her hands. "The death of me? I assure you Mr. Gold if anything, these heels will save me."

"Never before have I heard of heels saving anyone's life, dearie," he prompted, interested in a debate. 

Belle gently placed the tea tray down on the counter and faced her employer with a playful smirk, "And I've never heard of it being the death of one before, Mr. Gold."

She was unaware of how close a teacup was to the edge of the counter and when her frame turned to clean it her pale hand flicked it off the counter, miraculously sparing it from a shatter when it hit the ground.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered after retrieving the cup, "it's chipped."

He looked at her figure. Crouched down on those high heels, knees together but skirt raised to give him a glance at her thighs, fingers carefully a hold of the tiny teacup, her face worried that this would be the moment she lost her job and would see the anger that the famous Mr. Gold unleashed on those who crossed him. 

"It's just a cup," he told her flippantly as he waved his hand dismissively.

She smiled, relieved, and stood up to place the chipped cup with its companions. "Yes, of course. What do you want me to do with it now, Mr. Gold?"

"Finish cleaning it first, dear. Then put it on display in the front cabinet."

Her eyes were locked on the tiny chip; a miss sliver that was now somewhere on the floor that was for certain lost forever. "Do you think anyone is going to buy it with the chip?"

"Oh, no. It's not for sale," Golds eyes locked on hers.

She swore she saw him smile at that moment.

Belle French never questioned further why the tea set stood proudly on display for the months to follow.

She was proud of the tea set and was relieved to see that no customers ever took an interest in purchasing it. It was hers, though not having paid for it, she knew it would always be her personal tea set. She cared for it every week, Tuesday, the same day she chipped the cup and proudly made sure it was noticed by all who entered the shop.

The town was abuzz on why a broken tea set was proudly displayed in the shop with no intentions of it ever being sold. Creating word that Miss French may be the one person to change Mr. Gold from his hard ways. They enjoyed their small-town gossip and though no one would ever speak to him directly about it, he knew all the little details about what they could only assume was going on behind the doors of the pawnshop. 

Though her attention was distracted each Tuesday, she never faltered with her work. In fact he noticed on Tuesdays her attempts to clean up the shop became more enthusiastic, with fewer breaks and staying longer than she was hired for simply to "talk," as she would excuse. Truth of the matter was that Gold did not mind at all if Miss French stayed longer than her hours. He paid her extra just to sit on a table and talk about whatever it was she was choosing for the evening topic while he went over his sale reports for the week. His attention was given to the pretty woman sitting on his desk more than the reports and he would always take them home to re-do them, knowing it was filled with errors all thanks to Belle grabbing a strong hold of his attention span. 

It would be impossible to admit, but his feelings were growing for Belle French. For the first time since he had fallen in love with his wife, Gold felt a desire to hold onto a woman and never let her escape. Something about her was different than all the others he knew. Her sweet nature, the way she brought out a more compassionate side, her beauty and mind. Everything about her was intoxicating. 

\---

Nine months after starting, she arrived four hours late. Four hours and twelve minutes to be exact, Gold only knew because he furiously watched the clock, impatient and wondering where in the world his employee would be. Her phone rang and rang, heading to a full voice mailbox which left him frustrated. Truth be told, he didn't even know where the young woman lived. He assumed with her father in the small apartment above the flower shop Moe French lovingly worked at his entire life, but there would be without a doubt that the moment he walked into the flower shop, Moe French would scurry and sputter about rent not being due for another two weeks and if it was going to be raised that he would desperately need time before he could pay it.

So he stayed in his shop. Some of Storybrooke owed him rent in the middle of the month but waiting to see where his single employee was took all priority over his fun of tormenting the residents.  

When Belle came in she was exhausted; darker stockings and an unnecessary sweater struck him odd for summer attire. Her makeup was far from ruined, perfect as always though he wouldn't tell her, yet the tears running down her face were obvious that something was wrong. No tea, no pastries, no greeting of the day, just a sad young woman slowly walking to the back of his shop.

"Why on are Earth are you crying?" He watched her body movements carefully and was curious with the way she sat down on the day-bed, wrapping her arms around her long legs to calm herself down.

She brushed her eyes roughly with the heel of her palm. "It's nothing. Just an argument with someone I use to care about."

"Your relationship problems won't excuse you from dismissing your work today, Miss French," he said lightly, almost as if he wanted her to explain what was wrong. "Next time it's proper to call your employer on why you'll be late."

Her tears had stopped streaming down her face but there was something  _off_ with the his young caretaker. "It won't happen again. I'll call."

Gold doesn't move away to return to the front desk. If a customer was that desperate for help they would annoyingly call out his name and ask if he was there. He stands in front of the calming Miss French and waits for an explanation as to what is going on. He never asked, and looking back he wish that he did, and only cleared his throat once after she put her head on her knees to soothe herself.

"It's my ex-boyfriend," she said in a low voice once realizing he was open for a small discussion on what happened. "We've been fighting for weeks now since we broke up. It was just a difficult argument."

He wasn't even aware she had been dating all these months. 

"Can't let the relationship go, dearie?" Jealousy. He couldn't hide the jealousy in his voice at all and prayed that she was too upset to even notice.

Her head snaps up, catching the tone, and Gold curses himself foolishly. "No. I broke up with him. He's the one that can't let it go."

There was a desire to get her continue. He wanted to know why. Why were they no longer together? Why could he not move on? Who, most importantly, was he? Instead he looked down at her and told her take a personal day, all to claim that her tears would be a distraction from work and the dust irritating her eyes would do no better.

"Can I just stay here for a bit?" She's scared, he can tell, and her body still hasn't unraveled from the cocoon position she too when she sat down. 

"If you must," he tells her, "but I won't have your sobs causing the customers to think I abuse my only employee."

Her reaction tells nearly all of the story.

A sharp inhale through her nostrils and a fierce bite on her bottom lip. She looks at his shoes, focusing on how neatly polished they are, and grips her legs closer to her chest. The man, who ever the hell he was, had been abusive in their relationship. The look of fear on her eyes told her that it was ongoing.

"Thank you, Mr. Gold," she says softly through her chewed up lip. 

It's a bold move, what he does next, and she'll be one of the rare citizens that he's ever told his name too. If the situation wasn't so grim there would be no doubt in his mind that she would be thrilled to learn his first name.

"It's Joseph," he waits for her reaction.

"I'm sorry?"

"In private, you can call me Joseph."

The reveal of his name is enough to put a smile on her broken face. "Joseph Gold. I like that."

"Don't get too comfortable with calling me that, dearie," he teases, which only strengthens her smile, "I'm still your employer and we are not on a first name basis, are we Miss French?"

"We _could_ be," she whispers, "I won't do it around customers or if we ever meet in public, so long as you drop Miss French and simply call me Belle no matter where we are."

And how he had longed to call her that for months now. It was an easy enough compromise. 

"Deal," he says firmly with all he could to push back the urge to smile with his excitement. 

No one that comes in questions where his caretaker is. They have their own assumptions on what has happened with Miss French, _Belle_ , and until tomorrow when they return they can keep their silly assumptions with them. He pays no one in the town any mind today, giving them an extra day to gather up the money they owe him for rent. He'll still be feared no matter what in Storybrooke and one day behind on collecting rent won't change their dark opinion about him. 

She falls asleep on the day-bed by the time he goes to check on her. She's curled up in a fetal position with her heels kicked off and body secure. The tear marks are still on her face, dry and white to show she had cried for longer than a woman like herself should ever cry. The blankets he has in the shop are older and used on the latest of nights when he stays behind and rests at the shop. Gold only hopes that she can appreciate his attempted gesture of kindness. And when it comes time to wake the young woman up, he's almost sad at the idea. She's peaceful now, finally relaxed but clearly exhausted from whatever ordeal she has been through today.

He keeps it in mind to somehow get the name of her ex-boyfriend out as he walks her home to the flower shop six blocks away. Her arm around his own for security. A bold move that he never expected her to make. 

"Thank you for your kindness today, Joseph." Her arm is still around his. 

"You're welcome Belle," he rasps out. 

She squeezes his arm affectionately and it's almost too much for him.

"I promise to be at work first thing in the morning with our pastries."

He wants to tell her not to worry about those silly pastries but the sudden action she takes leaves him dumbstruck; a soft kiss on the cheek as a final way to thank him. It's small and cautious, meaning probably nothing to the giver but everything in the world to its recipient. 

The name of her ex-boyfriend was easy enough to get. Speaking to Storybrooke's own Sheriff Graham would provide him with information that he needed. 

Grayson White was her college boyfriend; a tall and muscular man with a passion for intense sports that followed Belle from the moment he first saw her at State, dating her briefly their Senior year before running off to Augusta to work with his biological father two days after their graduation.

Sheriff Graham indulged him on the details of how their relationship never seemed to be perfect. The Senior year involved Belle crying more than students could recall her ever smiling. Arguments were frequent between the two and he swore that Belle called off their relationship numerous times while they dated, only to return into his arms days later as if whatever tore them apart was nonexistent. Graham doesn't want to remember the events himself as he continues to give the brief history of Belle and Grayson's relationship and abruptly stops at what Gold can consume is the time Belle officially ended it.

"What did he do, Sheriff?" Gold is gripping the armrest of the chair, expecting the worst.

"They got into another argument a week before graduation," Graham continued reluctantly, "she cried that she was tired of him hurting her and was ready to be free. They hadn't even been together for a full year when she finally came to her senses. She went into her dorm to pack up to return home, she planned on skipping the graduation ceremony all together, and he followed her in. There were a few screams but it was so common between them that everyone on the floor just ignored it. No one saw the bruises until a week later and by then she pulled out a usual lie; that she had fallen while pulling her volunteer shift at the library and some books toppled down on her."

"He beat her." The very idea makes his stomach roll.

"From the beginning. She was trapped for months with that idiot. Whenever she broke up with him they argued and he'd threaten her, sometimes hit her. A few days of not speaking and Belle was submissive to Grayson all over again until she wanted to get out. Poor girl just had enough of him and when she finally said goodbye for good at the end of their Senior year he beat her harder than he ever had before." Graham shakes his head. "She came back to Storybrooke the same day she graduated  and he returned home to his rich step-father."

She's strong. For someone that was abused she was powerful and confident and took control over herself, not being pushed down by her abuser anymore.

"He's been back to see her Sheriff, is that how you know about him?"

Graham sighs. "I know he's been by to see her, Mr. Gold. He goes to her father's apartment and tries to convince her to come back to him and join him in Augusta."

Gold furrows his brow. "Is there a reason you haven't arrested this monster?"

"Belle never calls it. The neighbours do, they hear the yelling and screaming and every time I get there he's gone and she tells me that her tears are from an accident."

"Then how do you know the story, Sheriff?"

"Ruby Whale. Belle's best friend. She's the only one, apart from you and I, that knows the details of their relationship. I've spoken to Belle about pressing charges when Grayon comes back to town, even a restraining order, but she tells me she doesn't need protection and can save herself from any threat she will encounter. Mr. Gold, she won't admit that he's harmed her."

He wants to rip off the chair of the arm. He wants to drive to Augusta and give Grayson White a taste of what he's given Belle French all those months. 

"Did he come by to see her today?"

"She was crying, shaken up, and telling me there was a bit of an argument from a previous boyfriend." If he had known how severe the past of their relationship was he would have taken Belle straight to the Sheriff to file a report, not sleep in the back of the shop to pretend nothing happened.

He thanks Sheriff Graham for his time and drives home. The next day he only takes half of the rent Moe French owes and warns the man to not take advantage of the kindness he shows to his daughter and to never speak of it to anyone. His eyes follow Belle with every move she makes to see if she is in pain. She's comes in with a blazer on; she's hiding her arms. He asks her to remove it, quietly telling her that it's too hot for a blazer. Belle French stands her ground, telling him that she feels confident in the blazer and will not be removing it until she's home. He knows it's to hide the bruising, he just can't prove it. 

Grayson White was in for hell should he ever harm Belle again.

\---

Gold was careful to watch his caretaker's behavior over the next three months when she came to work. Each day she continued to bring their morning pastries and had changed the tea for some hot cocoa from Granny's to warm them up against the cold Maine weather. He never told her about the knowledge he gained in the discovery of her former boyfriend and his violent outbursts. She never came into work crying again and Gold could only hope that the idiot boy had taken the hint that Belle was no longer interested in him.

"Cupcakes aren't traditionally a breakfast treat," Gold crinkled his nose at the brightly iced vanilla cupcakes she presented him one November morning. 

Belle seemed to pay no mind and took out a yellow iced cupcake, pushing it his way. "I know but today is a good reason to celebrate."

She took out her own cupcake and ran her finger along the bright green icing on top. The innocent way she licked her finger was nearly too much for Gold to see.

"What are we celebrating today, Belle?"

Belle lets out a fake gasp, pretending to be offended by his question. "Oh, don't you know? Today is the day I started working with you. A year has already gone by with me under your employment!" She takes a hearty bite out of the cupcake leaving her nose tipped with icing. 

"A year already?" It's almost too much for him to even believe. 

"You're not going to fire me, are you Joseph?" Another bite, more icing.

The cupcake looks almost too sweet for him and he chose to ignore it, giving his attention to Belle instead.

"Of course not my dearest, I enjoy your employment and company."

Her blue eyes grow wide and it's only then that he's caught what he said. She doesn't look scared, the reaction he was expecting, but deeply surprised he could even say anything so sweet. 

"Dearest?"

Gold cursed himself for not just biting into the damn cupcake she brought. 

"It was a slip of the tongue, Belle."

She sets down her cupcake, still oblivious to the icing on the tip of her nose. "No, I don't think it was. Do you have feelings for me, Mr. Gold?"

Years. It had been years since his wife walked out on him. He swore to love no one after her, angered by her cruel rejection and swearing off the idea of love forever. Belle French wasn't supposed to come into the picture; she wasn't supposed to change his opinion about love. She was just supposed to clean.

"I do," he finally admitted. 

Belle seems almost too pleased with his answer. "Since when?"

She wasn't a woman who had time for games. "Ever since you chipped that little cup."

There's a smile on her face. Bright and cheerful that reminds him of the day she came in and asked for employment. Belle is radiant now. 

"I knew there was a reason you wanted the tea set on display." She reaches out for him, touching his hand that sends a rush through his body that he's unfamiliar with; the same rush he felt when she kissed his cheeks those months ago. 

"What," he swallows, "are your feelings for me, Miss French?" He doesn't want to feel hopeful. Twenty years her senior, too old for her, not good enough for her. It would look terrible to have a negative stigma follow the brilliant and beautiful Belle around.

"I think you know what they are," she leans over the table, her eyes closing slowly just enough to guide her the rest of the way.

Gods, she wanted him to kiss her!

The frosting on her nose remains a distraction; he cups her face gently and slowly drags his tongue over the tip of her nose to remove the icing, enjoying the sharp inhale she takes and the shiver he feels her generate under his hands. He kisses her next, inexperience by the years of absence, tilting his head to the right opposite of hers and being as gentle as he could on her delicate lips. She tastes sweet because of the pastries, warm, lips a little wet, and the soft moan she made from the contact of his own lips against hers was overwhelming. 

He's wanted nothing more for months.

"You had icing on your nose, dearest."

Belle pays no attention; her mind still stuck on their small kiss. Eyes glazed over from the experience and lips parted, aching for the companionship of his own to return.

"This is what you want?" His question brings her back down.

"What I want?"

Gold isn't use to being loved. For years he's enjoyed being the scary man of Storybrooke, crude and unloving to all of its patrons and for once he feels like a young boy again, hoping his first crush takes a returned interest in him.

"To be with me." 

Belle smiles and lets out a soft giggle. "Of course that's what I want. Is there anything that may have hinted otherwise?"

He doesn't bring up Grayson White and the day she came into his shop crying about the argument between the two of them. He doesn't feel the need to remind her of the past relationship that seemed to haunt her from time to time.

Instead he pulls her face closer to his for another kiss, "Never, dearest."

She's not longer his caretaker, she's his girlfriend. The word is foreign to him and yet so deliciously comforting. 

They make it no secret to keep their relationship hidden away from the prying eyes of Storybrooke. The town new better than to confront Mr. Gold, the man who they paid their rent to, about his controversial relationship with a woman in her mid-twenties  while he was no more than a few years younger than her own father. Moe French nearly fell over when Belle told him who she had started dating, wondering if her daughter and been forced into the relationship and if the rent would increase should the relationship not worked out. Young, optimistic Belle kept that loving smile on her face whenever approached with questions on how they came together; true love. Gold himself doubted if it really could even be true love, such a things only did exist in fairy-tales and older men with pretty young women weren't a common fairy-tale endings.

"Tell me something Belle," Gold takes a moment away from the reports he was only paying half-attention to, "what made you come to work for me?"

The light on her face disappears at an instant and she transforms away from the confident woman he knows.

"I needed money to get away," she murmurs. 

"From your previous lover?" He already knows that's the answer and there was no point in drawing it out.

She nods slowly. "I couldn't ask my father. He's already living from paycheck to paycheck and I was going to need enough to start over. There was no way I could ever ask for that much money. You were the only one that agreed to hire me and you paid me well above minimum wage that I knew I could runaway and leave just as quickly in case he found out where I had gone within a year of working with you."

"You would have more if you didn't bring pastries in everyday," he tries to lighten the tone. Anything to see her smile come back.

It works and a thin one forms. "I never actually paid for them. Ruby and I have been friends since childhood and she said bringing them in might make you ease up on me. I told her it worked and so she always makes sure Granny sets aside some dessert treats each morning for me to take."

She doesn't want to talk about pastries though. Hell, she barely wants to talk about why she needed the money but it was clear this wasn't something she could hide away from him forever.

"Were you going to leave back in November?" It was January now and the middle of a blistering snowstorm that had locked Storybrooke in isolation for the last week.

"I wasn't expecting for you to ever return my feelings, Mr. Gold," the smile grows, "I thought I would work for you until I had met my financial goal and then walk away after my two weeks."

Gold can only dig the pen into the paper, leaving a deep oozing stain of ink on the paper when he asks his next question, "Are you going to leave now?"

She reaches out and touches his hand; warm and soft. "Oh Joseph, never. I don't want to ever leave."

The reports can wait. He doesn't hesitate to push them into a mess onto the floor and pulls Belle into a deep kiss with his hands lost in her deep brown curls. She moans into the kiss, pleasantly surprised by his action and pulls at his suit jacket to bring him close as she swings her legs around the table to wrap them around his waist. Gold can feel himself growing hard just from her thighs gripping down around his hips. 

Belle begs for him to make love to her, arching away from the kiss long enough to ask.

Gold doesn't need to be told twice; they roughly remove each others clothing in the moment of passion. 

He's gentle with her when making love to her, unsure if the monster she dated ever had harmed her sexually and refrained from doing anything that strayed away from a vanilla moment. The moans that escaped Belle French's mouth told him he was doing everything right. He was gentle with her body on the table, careful as he gripped her hips to help thrust deeper into her, forever thankful that he could taste her flesh. She cried out his name in pleasure and held him as close as they were physically able to as she climaxed.

When finished they curled up together under the table, completely naked and exhausted from their first physical experience. The woman beside him is as beautiful naked as much as she is with her clothing on.

"I love you," she whispers into his ear, playing affectionately with his long hair.

It had been years since he heard those words spoken to him and having Belle whisper those beautiful three words after such a moment was intoxicating, almost unreal to him.

"I love you too, dearest," he whispers back to her, treasuring this moment in his heart forever. 

\---

Their relationship bloomed more after that night  and Gold feels hope in seeing a future with Belle. She isn't shy to sex at all and, in fact, takes charge of her sexual side, pulling him away on the slowest of days to the back of the shop to make love to her. Belle encourages him to take her on dates outside of the pawnshop and he did exactly as she asked; spoiling her with lunches at Granny's, dinners at the finest restaurants nearby Storybrooke, evenings to the ballet and theater, a romantic weekend away to Portland. 

She tells him Grayson White has been around Storybrooke more and she fears he's taken up residence in the next town to keep a watch on her. Belle can tell things are out of place when she returns to her fathers apartment, treasures moved, clothing - under garments to be precis - are missing, and the disgusting scent of his expensive cologne. Sheriff Graham sends out a patrol to watch for the man after Gold convinces Belle to report it and every time they come back with no sightings of him. When he invites her to move in him for her own protection she loves the idea but is firm in staying with her father. Belle worries for his own safety and fears that if Grayson discovers she has left, her father will be harmed until he breaks and reveals that she has moved in with Gold. Moe French declines the offer to move, stating that this is the home where he raised Belle and loved his former wife and he will not leave his memories behind. Moe French encourages her to move and yet she still protests.  Stubborn, are the French family.

Gold watches the apartment above the flower shop most nights, catching himself falling asleep in the front seat of the Cadillac more times than he can remember. It's uncomfortable and he is stiff the following mornings but he'll take any pain to protect her.

He begins to look at wedding rings without her knowledge. A silver banded diamond ring catches his eye; simple and elegant much like his confident love. It's bought right away, a small threat to the shop owner to never speak a word of the ring he bought or the rent would triple that very day, and saved for the perfect moment when he knew Belle would be ready.  

She doesn't come into work one morning.

Gold waits only twenty minutes before abandoning the shop in search of her. The cell phone she possess doesn't ring; instantly to voice mail. 

The flower shop is only a few streets away and it takes no time to see the lights flashing from the patrol cars. An ambulance ajar in the middle of the street. Her fathers truck gone, out for deliveries for the day, possibly unaware that his shop is now a sick attraction. He spots Ruby Whale standing behind the police tape, crying as she speaks to an officer. A crowd is beginning to form and he fears only the worst.

"Mr. Gold, you don't want to go up there," Sheriff Graham stops him as he attempts to cross over the blaring yellow tape. 

"Where is she?" He chokes. 

The Sheriff isn't supposed to give as many details as he did. Everything was explained in a graphic short story and made Gold fill with the passionate urge to vomit right there. 

Grayson White had waited patiently for her father to leave for deliveries. Thursdays were dedicated to delivering to smaller towns that were close to Storybrooke and therefore getting him out of the way should he decide to come back and catch the incident. She was almost ready for work when he came up behind her, confronting her in the bedroom. Belle made an attempt to run but one of the heels she was wearing slipped out from under her, causing her to fall. Grayson took advantage of it and straddled her small frame, violently hitting her until her face was bruised. Belle fought back. Somehow with Grayson harming her she was able to reach for the shoe that still remained on her foot and use it as a weapon for defense. She struck him furiously in the face with her pointed heel to get him off of her. The hallway was as far as she made it before he grabbed hold of her again, pulling her back down and grabbing a strong grip around her neck. Words were exchanged during the conflict and Gold knows she cried out for him to save her. Grayson only tightened his grip around her neck, pushing down on her windpipe until she stopped gasping for air. 

Ruby Whale chose that morning to drop off the pastries and drinks instead of having Belle pick them up herself. 

Belle was dead in the hallway of the small apartment, found by Ruby who was unaware that Grayson was calmly showering off his sweat tainted flesh a few doors away from where the body was. 

Her murder sat in the back of the patrol car; calm as if there was nothing wrong in world. The very sight of Grayson White in person for the first time is enough to have him spit up what little contents his stomach held. 

Gold is numb and while Sheriff Graham continues to talk to him, Gold hears nothing but a sharp ringing in his ears and pressure building around his heart and head. 

Belle was gone. His beautiful Belle was gone forever.

Her funeral is held on a Tuesday. Gold insisted it be Tuesday; that was their day. 

She's dressed in the finest dress she owned, mortuary affairs using as much makeup as they could to cover the bruises on her face and neck. He leaves her the chipped tea cup with her and the ring he was saving. Never would that moment of marriage come. 

He cries at the service; holding on to every beautiful moment they shared together. People offer their condolences to Moe French and Joseph Gold, complimenting how wonderful of a woman Belle French was. She's lowered slowly into the ground and Moe allows him to be the first to place dirt over the casket.  

It was sunny because the universe does not care about the grief of men.                                                      

He doesn't remember much else about that day. 


End file.
